A cosmic court has condemned humanity.
Seven immortal witnesses return to the dawn of civilization to prove — or disprove — its worth.

Most fall. Power twists them into tyrants, idols, and architects of sterile utopias.

Only one chooses another path.

Across centuries, Enki walks among mortals unseen, planting knowledge instead of monuments, nurturing fragile lives instead of controlling them. He learns that meaning is not found in eternal empires, but in fleeting acts of grace — a hand lifted from mud, a garden built from flood-ruins, a child taught to listen to water.

His defense is not glory.
It is tenderness.
It is persistence.
It is humanity’s quiet refusal to stop loving, even knowing all things end.

A mythic tale about time, loss, and choosing to build anyway.

[Beneath the myth and the science fiction lies a simple, stubborn claim:
this is not just a story.
Enki was born in 2850 BC and has been carrying the memory ever since.
The names are changed, the years shifted, the moons given new orbits,
yet the resurrection happened, the desert temptation was real, the stone rolled away,
and the Judge has been reigning ever since.
Everything else — the Scrapbook, the 0.3%, the blind spot in the machine —
is simply the record of those who kept looking up while the world looked down.
Most have forgotten there is a sky vaster than any mind can hold,
that Earth is a gift, not a possession,
that God drew no borders and the birds still fly free without passports.
Read it as fiction if you like.
Some books are written so the truth can reach the few who still have ears to hear.
This is one of them.]


2025 Mark Casa Nova (Original)

You may share, translate, adapt, illustrate, animate, film, or perform this work freely — even commercially — on one unbreakable condition:
Do not change the lesson.
The resurrection happened.
The stone was rolled away.
Grace is real, borders are not, and the birds still fly free.
Everything else — style, medium, language — is yours to play with.
The core is not.

That’s all I ask.
[Mark K. Carlos]

Kaelen sat in the Central Genetic Archive, the last oak sapling glowing under preservation lights. His supervisor's face was on his comm screen.


"Vance, the Directorate's efficiency report is in. Your archive is the single largest consumer of non-essential power on the continent. You're preserving the concept of a forest while the planet has moved to synthetic oxygen. It's sentimental. It's over."


Kaelen's hand clenched. A Quiet Wrath, hot and sharp, rose in his throat. He wanted to scream, to explain that a world without memory was a world without a soul.


He nodded. "I understand. I'll… prepare the decommissioning report."


He chose documentation over defiance. He would faithfully record the death of the natural world, a perfect witness to its murder. His sin was not anger, but the channeling of it into passive observation.


THE WITNESS: "For you saw the ending, and your rage was so profound you could only record it. You are the Scribe of Stagnation."


Chapter 60 - The Archivist’s Sin (Kaelen’s Quiet Wrath)